PS 3535 
.129 P6 
1921 
Copy 1 



oems 

and 

Poems 



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By 
DR. WM. H. RICHARDS 







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THESE SKETCHES 
ARE POEMS BY 

William H. Richards, D. D. S. 

FROM HIS HEART GALLERY 



"ake a Stroll Through It With Him. He May Have Felt One of 
Your Heart Strings. Such Is Life! 




Edited by a Journalistic Friend 




DR. WA, H. RICHARDS 



Copyrighted Sept. 16, 1921 T^^ T)r W- H. RICHARDS 

©C1A628647 



NOV 18 1921 



I have found real pleasure in going through and making 
selections from the writings of Dr. Richards, man and gentleman, 
writer and entertainer, poet, scientist and inventor. 

Were there no limit to space, more selections equally as good 
as those which follow, could have been included. The man, Rich- 
ards, is fine and in him is no guile. What he has uttered has been 
of no less a worthy plane. Read, and know, in part, something of 

the Richards heart. 

— Editor. 



WHERE HEAVEN IS FOUND 



Nature has a Soul somewhere, 

The Soul of Inspiration. 
I've felt its call to sing to all 

In every land and nation. 

Nature has a Heart somewhere 
In Touch with all Creation. 

Fve felt it throb and heard it sob 
In every walk and station. 

Nature's Heaven is Everywhere, 

Unbounded as Creation. 
It has a Throne where love is shov/n 

In Peace, not Desolation. 

Nature's God is Everywhere, 

The Soul of Incarnation. 
We are His breath in life or death 

And Crowning Inspiration. 



Rudyard Kipling wrote some blank verse on a Military topic 
which I have de-coded into Dental language. 



THE DENTAL LUNATIC 



We're Dentists- work- work- work- working for Humanity. 

Work- Work- Work- Work- Working for Humanity! 
Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth- movin' up an' down again — 

There's no relief in the World. 

It - is - mighty - bad putting in the flllin's — 

And ex- trac- ting the pulps by the mill-ions: 

From teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth- movin' up an' down again — 
There's no relief in the World! 

Don't- don't- don't- don't- Orthodonty worries you — 

Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth- movin' up an' down again 

Doc's- Doc's- Doc's- Doc's- Doc's go mad watchin' 'em; 
An' there's no relief in the world! 

Seven- six- eleven- four- eight- and twenty pulled today ! 

Four- eleven- seventeen- thirty-two the day before! 
Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth- movin' up an' down again; 

There's no relief in the World. 

Plates- plates- plates — , in the gummy mouth o' them — 

If - your - eyes - drop — , they will get a bite o' you ! 

Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth — , movin' up and down again, 
There's no relief in the World! 

In - your - dreams - you - can sense the sound o' them — 
Clash- clash- clash- clash- movin' in an' out again : 

Gnash- gnash- gnash, movin' up an' down again: 
An' there's no relief in the World. 

We - have - worked - our - lives in 'Ell an' certify, 
It- is- not- the- patients' sex or anything. 

But teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth m.ovin' up an' down again, 
An' there's no relief in the world ! 

We - can - stick - out - groan an' sigh an' weariness — 
But not, - not - not - the chronic sight of 'em — 

Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth movin' up an' down again: 
An' there's no relief in the world! 

Try- try- try- to think o' something different — 

Oh- my- soul- I believe I'm goin' lunatic — 

Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth — , movin' up an' down again. 
There's no relief in the World. 



SISTER CONSTANCE'S PRAYER 



Oh! Ancient Father of wisdom, 

God, over all, 
On Thee I call, from the depths of life's ignorance 

Lift Thou the pall, for good or evil. 
The Tree of Life casts over all. 

From the solitude of my Eden, 

Father, I call. 
From the top of knowledge's sacred tree 

I fain would fall, if by this fall this solitude, 
Would bring that love which knoweth no sin and forgiveth all. 

To shield him from the stain I did not call; 

Virtues crown, the price of my soul my very all, 
I gave to him with childlike faith 

In sacred hall. 
Where other twain went forth to wed, we went to fall. 

'Twas in the Vicars house I fell. 

He made me fall; 
The sacrificial blood I shed for loves sweet call 

Was purer than that which flows, if love's not all, 
In the children of those who wed where law is all. 

Father! Mary, Mother of Thy Son, 

God over all. 
Conceived of Thee in Sacred Wild, 

At sacred call 
Of Holy Ghost, Thy Holy Son 

Proclaimed to all "Let the innocent cast . 
"The first stone at those who fall." 



TO SPRING— QUEEN OF SEASONS 



When fragrant buds are peeping 

In Springtime's early morn, 
And hazy fogs are creeping 

From downy beds at dawn 
We see the leafy bowers, 

In swaying plumes of green 
Sifting diamond showers 

In the lap of Nature's Queen. 

Thou Queen of all the Seasons 

We greet thee with our cheers 
And marvel at the reasons 

That fill your smiles with tears. 
Time leaves no lines in keeping 

With all the years you've spent 
Because your artful weeping 

Comes not from heart that's rent. 

Thou Queen of all the Seasons, 

The flowers that deck thy breast 
God grew them for the reasons 

And holds them where they rest. 
'Till rainbow tinted flowers 

Send incense laden dew 
Through Heaven's welcome showers 

Each «e«»tm back to you. 



MOTHER OF LIBERTY 



Mother of Liberty, Thy Holy Light 
Enshrines the world in Glory bright, 

Adorns Columbia's Diadem and 
Relumes the Star of Bethlehem. 

Thy sons and sires from every race 
Cradled 'neath the inspired grace, 

Lighted by Love were born to lead 
Your allied sons of state and creed. 

To blaze the way for Freedom's Shrine 

Above the stars of your Ensign, 
Above the belfry's crumbling spire. 

Above the altar's alien fire, 

Above the Tomb whose Sacred dome, 
Falling, touches Heart and Home, 

Of race and creed and All indeed 

Who felt the Sting of Monarch's deed, 

Till Peace Just Peace — has crowned the day 

Sheathing the sword of Might for Aye 

On this, the World's Thanksgiving Day, 
— The Day of Armistice — . 



OUR STAR OF GOLD 



''LaFayette, we come," 

A Yankee lad first knelt, in prayer, 
Near Christ's Gray General "over there;" 

Then, rising, cried with abated breath 
**Give Us Liberty, Or Give Us Death." 

The Yankee lad, the first to fall 
'Neath Liberty's guiding hand 

Has blazed the way, at Freedom's call 
For the dear dead from every land. 

Columbia's star has changed its light 
From silvery sheen to glowing gold, 

To mark the sacrificial flight 
Of a Liberty loving soul. 

Freedom's scions the world around 

All hold his memory dear, 
Destiny makes this Holy Ground, 

For Columbia's Shrine is Here. 



May 8, 1919. 



MAGDELENE'S SISTER PIOUS 



Her eyes were set in bias slits 

And vvinked as if by chance 
Her brow was knit to keep her wits 

Fropi freezing every glance. 
Her cold gray stare was bold and bare, 

Of softening lash or tear 
She had no soul, no love to spare; 

She said herself, "I'm queer." 

Queer she was and the query is, 

When we, her features scan, 
The wonder is, that such a fizz 

Is a part of nature's plan. 
Her nose was thin, so was her skin, 

The blood beneath was blue 
But not the kind you'll find within 

Hearts with impulse true. 

Her lips were thin and turned within 

And wear no winsome pout; 
They have the slant of bias can't 

Which leaves all charity out. 
She fed the rich and high in state, 

For the praise they had to spare, 
And drove the pauper from her gate 

With a cold forbidding stare. 

Her edged tongue with honey hung 

To hide it's subtle snare. 
From those it stung and hearts it rung 

For envy's morbid glare. 
Where Magdeline slept, prayed or wept, 

Or erring footsteps fell. 
She laid in wait with envy's hate 

Of sisters' faults to tell. 

From Heaven to Hell an angel fell 

So shall the imps of fate 
Feel the smart of a burning heart 

For changing love to hate. 
There'll be o'er hell's undying yell 

Yells from Annanias, 
When doomed to dwell with imps in hell 

And their sister pious. 



OLD UNCLE DAN 



From Dixie's new highway 

There's a winding by-way 
To a town of Old Barleycorn 

Where bold Uncle Dan 
And his dog "Snarley" were born. 

In the marts of the South 

There's a ''moonshine drouth" 
Dry as bones on the lawns 

That are left by the hound 
To bleach on the ground 

By the Tomb of Old Barleycorn. 

Near the winding by-way 

After a long "dry" day 
By the lure of the 'Shiner's Horn 

There sleeps 01' Uncle Dan 
A real bootlegging man 

And his dog by Old Barleycorn. 

Here's peace to the soul of Old Uncle Dan 
Whose spirit fled with the cup that "queers" 

And to the Visions of Old Mammy Ann 

That cling to my dreams of Childhood's years. 



THE MOONSHINE SPY 



"I was riz where the moon seemed to me 

As sly on "shine" as I used to be 
I was as wild as any wild cat 

As to the law, I didn't mind that 
Jes stuck to my gun and old bowie knife 

Didn't give a damn 'bout anybody's life. 
Fit for the worm, that turned by and bye 

And stung my old state, 'til she went dry; 

"Where I still'd liquor, and sold it out 

The revenue boys laid round about; 
They camped on my trail every now and then 

Tried mighty hard to put me in the pen. 
When I went to town to help the wets fight 

The "drys" came round to snuff my light, 
The town went as dry as my powder horn 

Fighting gin the spirit of "Old Barley Corn." 

"I've seed him downed in more ways than one — 

Working for a chance, trying to make a run 
When he warn't strong he'd better keep "still" 

Til he drawed a beed for old Uncle Bill 
Who never was knowed in all his life 

For taking up his gun for any other strife 
Till Uncle Sam called for a first class spy 

To fight gin the "Uns" like he fit gin the dry. 

"Here's to my gun and old friend Rye. 

When we drawed a beed something had to die. 
The old Fuzees of bygone years 

Did mighty good work for the Volunteers — 
They are not fit for sniping off "Uns" 

That won't bite the dust from any slow guns, 
Like the Pilgrims of Progress had to lay by 

With my old Rifle when the State went dry." 



HUMBUG TRUST 



"A June bug said to a Butterfly 
Why doesn't you work as the day goes by 
A laying up honey like you see I does? 
Why! you haven't even got the grit to buzz.' 

*'The Butterfly said to the Bumblebee, 

'Why isn't you all dressed up like me? 

I haven't a thing in the world to do 

But show off my clothes dat look so new.' " 

— Anonymous. 

A Bull frog, high on his white stool, 
Said to his Cow frog, over in the pool, 
'You'd better go round and catch dat fool 
Before he starts a new-fangled School.' 

This world will be an awful muss 
If we don't stop this humbugging trust, 
From sending out bees on gaudy wing, to 
Teaching butterflies to jazz and sing. 

So you'd better go round, my Cow frog queen 
And catch dat fool asettin' on de bean; 
I'll put him where he'll never be seen, 
Helpin' June bugs keep your Bull frog green 
In the memory of stings that might have been. 



SWANANNOA TO SWANANTAQUA 



From Rhododendron's floral home 
'Neath craggy mountain's opal dome 
The Swanannoa sings and flows 
Where Swanantaqua comes and goes, 
'Neath clouds where Seven Sisters rise 
With incense trailing to the skies. 
Where dew-gems of rainbow hue 
Blend 'till the flowers renew 
Their Heavenly tints as pure and true 
As Swanannoa's songs for me and you. 

SWANANTAQUA TO SWANANNOA 

Swanannoa, I come again, 

To see your flowers bloom once more 

To hear your songs and sweet refrain 
Of birds that sing along your shore. 

On this trail my tribe is sleeping- 
Through dreams of lands they hope to see 

Where the great spirit is keeping 
Hunting grounds for the Cherokee. 



This poem won the prize for naming the Episcopal resort at 
Black Mountain, N. C, which is now known as Swanantaqua. 



THE GALILEAN PILOT 



In the cold gray dawn of a passing morn, 

From a fated ship at sea, 
Rose a parting prayer for one left there 

Who gave his life for me. 
To an unknown shore I plyed my oar 

With those unknown to me 
Who felt the strain in heart and brain, 

"Nearer my God to Thee." 

To a captain true and a faithful few 

On a broken ship at sea, 
Who gave their place with heavenly grace, 

Are dearer Lord to Thee. 
No greater Love is borne above 

By those who follow Thee 
To the sweet refrain, **We will meet again;" 

''Nearer my God to Thee." 

Thy spirit Lord, with one accord, 

Was wafted o'er the sea 
By those whose strains of love remains 

"Nearer my God to me." 
The souls he saved from the ship that braved 

The icy isles at sea 
Will dwell above in realms of love, 

With Thee, Pilot of Galilee. 



Inspired by the sinking of the Titanic. 



JUST TEMPORIZE AND NEUTRALIZE 



Some things were not made for fun 

And from them we can't always run. 

I will be bold and of them tell, 

"You can catch Cold and you can catch Hell!" 

**Say cold, catch hell, 
And hell, catch cold." 

Each the other realizes 

And makes a temperate zone 
And everybody harmonizes 

And leaves extremes alone! 



TO A FATHER'S DAUGHTER 



Your dear dunning letters came 
And seem ever to wind up the same — 
Have the same tune, starts with "honey" 
And always end with a call for "more money." 

For twenty-five years I've paid your bills 

And I'm bound for the Poor House O'er the Hills. 

If I do not die before I arrive there 

Ariding on Poverty's old nightmare. 

My poor old steed everybody knows 
And I always wear the same old clothes. 
The same old gate she'll always choose, 
She's just like you — "She's Hell on Shoes." 



NO TOOTHLESS KISS FOR ME! 



Thy teeth, like Memorial stones, 
Mark the place of mouldering bones. 
Thy lips enfold no pearly shrine, 
Tempting Cupid's heart to pine. 
For the bliss of thy soulful kiss 
Is not from teeth like thine! 



EDEN'S FRUIT—AN APPLE AND A PAIR 



The first limited lunch in this world of woes 
Was in Eden's Garden where Eve chose 
Apples for lunch for a company of two. 
Apples were plenty but guests were few. 

One was enou.^h for the love sick twain 
Who sampled the Tree of Knowledge for "gain" 
For better, for worse, far better thus 
Than going it alone with no one to cuss. 



COME, SMILE AWHILE 



Come, smile awhile with me, 
My cheer brings smiles to thee. 

But, when you smile, 
Think as of yore 
Of the tales galore 

'Bout friends and folks whom we adore 
And extends from ear to year. 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 



A vision of Franklin came in the night 
Of a key and a message "Let there be Light." 
By the might of his brain lightning flashed white 
O'er "a string and a key" tied to a kite. 

The key and the message that came with the kite 
Opened Life's trail to a world of delight. 
Each ray of the beacon grew in its might 
'Till Darkness and Demons fled from its sight. 

Relentless Old Time, the Father of Blight, 
Called from Darkness God's Apostle of Light. 
The Earth, his tomb, will glow always bright 
Like stars God lit for the curtain of night. 



REJECTED VOLUNTEER 



Dedicated to Dr. W. H. Richards, 

By His Friend, Lucy D. A. Tipton 

All hail to thee! Strong Scion of thy noble state, 

Loving her with a love so deep, so true, so great 

When thou wert but a laddie, leaving thy roof tree, 

To give thy life if needed, to keep Virginia free. 

No thought of fear or danger entered thy brave soul 

Thy grief so real, o'er message "sure babies can't enroll" 

As bomb did blast thy high hopes to be a soldier true. 

Undaunted still, great ardor led to thick of fight, 

Where brave men all were watching, fearing for thy life, 

In love and praise the idol of soldiers and of men 

And now the war is over, pipes the dove of peace — 

But the heart that in anguish fought for thy state's release 

Is the same that now is striving countless friend's to bless. 

When deep down in the valley of grief they must go, 

Beside them sure, you're walking while your eyes with tears 

o'erflow; 
If happy, then you're joyous, merry as the best, 
This the Laddie, tho 'tis fifty years or more 
He's the same fine Laddie that he was in Sixty-four, 
When he trudged home to mother with tales of war galore. 

4. 



(Was in Co. "E," Picket's Division, 8th Virginia Infantry.) 
*'Too young to fight but not to cheer." 



THE KAISER'S GETHSEMENE 



It was on Friday night, November 7, 1918 — four days 
before the signing of the Armistice — that I sought repose as 
the clock struck ten. 

The receiver of my mental periscope was as clear of cloud 
or fog as the crisp air that lulled me to sleep, playing Aeolian 
airs on the wireless receiver of my brain. 

These gentle zephyrs grew into a storm which carried 
me in its teeth, until, weary of its load, left me on the brink 
of the River of Doubt. 

Desolation was apparent, as if a tornado had swept every- 
thing to destruction, leaving the swollen river bearing her 
rubbish to the sea, whose roar seemed but reverberations of 
distant thunder. 

The Sun had slipped the mantle of night over the Earth. 
The boldest stars lent their jewelled Light of Hope — after the 
storm had passed. 

Looking in the direction in which the river was flowing, 
I beheld the figure of the Kaiser sitting on the brink of the 
River of Doubt, in the atttitude of prayer. 

My eyes were suddenly dimmed, as if a blinding flash of 
lightning hovered over the scene. On second sight it assumed 
the aspect of the Sun's relentless glow, when, to my astonish- 
ment, I beheld two figures, one unseen by me before — Queen 
Victoria in the attitude of supplication before her Lord and 
Saviour, Jesus Christ, on behalf of the fleeing storm-tossed 
King of War, Wilhelm. 

I had no preconceived idea of such an event. This vision 
confirmed my belief in mental telepathy. 



UBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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m L. WARTKRS CO., PRINTERS 



